


irish spring 5-in-1

by Anonymous



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24360607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: five unrelated shorts about daniil and pierre
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Pierre Gasly/Daniil Kvyat
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43
Collections: Anonymous





	irish spring 5-in-1

**Author's Note:**

> this pairing lowkey slaps no cap

“This isn’t what I asked for,” Pierre mumbled, eyeing the cup of iced coffee warily. The drink sitting atop the table before him was _cold_ , he requested for something _hot_. His teeth were sensitive in the morning, okay?

Daniil patted his shoulder reassuringly as he took a sip of his own tea. “You didn’t finish your Americano before you went to bed last night so I put it in the fridge. Don’t waste.” When Pierre looked up at him, he added coolly, “giving me those eyes won’t work. Finish it.”

Pierre huffed and mumbled something about Daniil being a bad boyfriend, not that the older took it to heart. They were awake at the ass-crack of dawn, it’d be more surprising if Pierre wasn’t grumpy. Daniil leaned down to press a kiss to the grumbling man’s crown, internally cooing at how the affectionate gesture promptly put an end to the inane complaints.

“I’m going to take a shower,” said Daniil. He pointed at the cup. “Finish it.” He moved to put his mug in the sink, making a mental note to wash it later. Pierre never remembered to do the dishes; besides sneaking food, he was utterly useless in the kitchen.

“I don’t want to,” Pierre protested loudly, stamping his feet like a cranky two-year-old toddler. Oh, their fans would pay _millions_ to see this childish side of the AlphaTauri driver. Too bad they weren’t Daniil, hah.

Daniil wouldn't let anyone bribe him into letting them catch a glimpse either. Pierre’s softer off-track moments were meant to be hidden from public view, away from unwanted judgment.

“I don’t care! Finish it!” Daniil yelled from the bottom of the stairs. Pierre gave a dramatic moan of annoyance that grated on the ear but quietened right after, Daniil considered it a win.

An hour later, they were on their way to a stupid sponsor meeting that neither wanted to attend in the first place. It was a Saturday and the season just ended a couple of weeks ago, they deserved the chance to finally sleep in. 

Pierre sat in the passenger seat, happily singing along to whatever song he had begged Daniil to put on. They bickered over Pierre’s leftover Americano (Pierre won the argument, the thermos in the cup holder served as proof of his victory) and fought over the car keys (Daniil won, it wasn’t his fault that Pierre was extremely ticklish) so aside from the constant voice cracks and terribly strained high notes, Daniil was relatively enjoying the ride.

“Will Max and Alex be there?” Daniil asked, checking the rear-view mirror.

“Be where?” Pierre replied, rhythmically patting his thighs. He was shaking his legs too, a habit Daniil longed to help him break.

“At the meeting, Идиот.” Daniil shot the younger a despairing glance and rolled his eyes at the cheeky grin stretching across the latter’s face.

“Max texted me to say he will be late, Alex left me on read.”

Daniil nodded, making a sharp right turn. Pierre was not prepared and jerked to the left, the seat belt digging into his side and he emitted a pained groan. The satisfied smirk curling Daniil’s lips told him everything he needed to know.

“Fuck you,” Pierre hissed, pouting slightly.

“Ah, ah. Language.”

Pierre crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Daniil. “It really hurt, fuck you.”

“Don’t be a baby,” said Daniil. He extended a hand in Pierre’s direction though, and the younger failed to fight against a smile. Slowly, Pierre placed a fist on Daniil’s palm and tittered when his boyfriend immediately tried to interlock their fingers.

“Come on,” Daniil urged, trying to pry open his boyfriend’s fist whilst simultaneously focusing on the road. Pierre’s silly giggles burst into a whole-hearted laugh, the man trembling from head to toe. He decided to take pity on the other, unclenching his fist and interlacing his fingers with Daniil’s.

“Can you be quiet and drive now?” Pierre teased, secretly loving the way Daniil calmly traced the back of his hand.

Daniil snorted. “Only if you shut up.”

Pierre was bored at the beach.

Bored. At the beach. Nobody should ever be bored at the beach.

“Dany, I’m bored,” he whined for the umpteenth time. To his left, Carlos was whispering sweet nothings to his boyfriend(?) who kept giggling at his words of affection. Pierre pursed his lips. They were so _noisy_ , this double date was the worst.

Daniil shook his head disapprovingly. “Look at the stars, детка. I didn’t tell you to look at Carlos.”

Overhead, blinking pearls decorated the black satin shrouding the coast. The night sky was indeed mesmerizing, Pierre admitted. He would definitely appreciate it a little more if a certain _someone_ paid attention to him.

Pierre dug the toes of his sneakers into the sand beneath. “I looked, they’re beautiful. But I’m bored, I want to do something fun.” _With you,_ he thought.

“We didn’t bring anything with us,” Daniil replied, lifting his head to observe the gleaming lights.

“But I’m really really, _really_ bored.”

“Let’s play Ten Fingers?” suggested Carlos’ boyfriend and Pierre’s head swiveled to fix him with his gaze. He wasn’t aware that the duo had stopped flirting with each other and the accented voice startled him.

Daniil’s forehead furrowed. “What’s that, Lando?”

Pierre cocked his head. His name was Lando, that’s… cute. It suited him.

“It’s a game,” Lando started to explain, pushing himself upright. As he babbled on about the rules, Pierre and Daniil noticed Carlos openly staring at him with the fondest of smiles. The Spaniard was clearly falling head over heels for him, Pierre hoped they would last.

Based on the snippets of information Daniil fed him from time to time, Lando was younger than the rest of them and somehow befriended Carlos at a coffeehouse after a barista got their orders mixed up. It was a meet cute that had the romantic in Pierre swooning with delight.

“So you put down a finger if you did the thing another player said?”

“Uh-huh.” Lando beamed at Daniil. “I loved playing this with my friends back home, we used to get so drunk. Since we don’t have anything to drink tonight, we’ll just use our fingers.” His eyes darted around, keenly. Unbeknownst to him, Carlos was goggling at him. “Who wants to go first?”

Pierre raised a hand. “Me!”

“Me,” Daniil mimicked, pulling a face. He altered his pitch to sound like a dying mouse. “I’m really bored, Dany. Let me go first.”

“Shut up,” Pierre responded, playfully punching Daniil in the stomach. He proceeded to spread his fingers, watching as the others did the same. “It should be something I never did, right?”

“If you want to win,” Lando answered.

“Yeah, or you can lose.”

“Shut up, Dany. Okay, let me think. Never have I ever travelled to Japan for work.”

Carlos and Daniil put down a finger each.

“Oh. I forgot you guys are colleagues,” said Pierre. “Sorry, Carlos. I was trying to kill Dany, not you.”

Lando chuckled at that, bumping shoulders with Carlos. Daniil, on the other hand, blessed Pierre with his middle fingers for blatantly stating his intention.

“That is very sweet,” Carlos joked. “You are a great boyfriend, Dany.”

“You should tell Pierre that.” Daniil mocked hurt, jutting out his bottom lip in an exaggerated manner. “Okay, I want to go next.” He winked at Pierre, a warning that screamed shit was about to go down. “Never have I ever been naked in front of my boyfriend’s parents.”

With Lando and Carlos choking on air in the background, Pierre’s pronunciation of Russian names had never been more accurate when he exclaimed shrilly, “Daniil Vyacheslavovich Kvyat!”

> _We are out of milk :(_

Daniil was perplexed by the message he received. It wasn’t his turn to do the shopping, it was Pierre’s.

> _Then buy some?_

The professor continued to drone on about fluid mechanics in a monotonous voice, oblivious to the state her students were in. People were dozing off left and right, and the lady didn’t bat an eyelash. Daniil struggled to keep up with the lecture, finding it difficult to focus when his brain was gradually shutting down.

“I left Spain for this,” Carlos grunted, he had long since given up on taking notes.

Daniil sighed, cracking his neck. “I left Italy for this.”

Carlos quirked an eyebrow. “I thought you were Russian.”

“I moved to Italy as a kid.” Daniil stretched his legs underneath the tiny desk, barely stifling a yawn. “You don’t know?”

“No.” Carlos sniffed. “Is new knowledge.”

“At least you learned something today,” Daniil quipped, studiously looking at their professor. Carlos understood the message conveyed by the intense stare and smirked, leaning back on his chair. Neither of them held the kill-joy of a professor in high regard; she was strictly anti-fun and absolutely hated technology.

It was impossible to forget about the incident involving someone’s laptop and an inkwell. Their professor’s temper became the talk of the town for _weeks_.

“I think your boyfriend misses you,” Carlos commented out of nowhere.

“Huh?”

Daniil followed the other’s line of sight, gaze landing on his phone. Incessant notifications lit up his lock screen, the name he set for Pierre in his contacts labelling the sender ID for each message.

Carlos twitched his nose, peering at the device curiously. “What does he want?”

“Don’t know.” Daniil pressed his thumb against the screen, making sure his phone was positioned directly behind the aluminium bottle Pierre gifted him. The younger was tired of stumbling upon plastic bottles in their flat. The last two messages read:

> _Don’t feel good_
> 
> _Hard to move, everything hurts :(_

“Is Pierre okay?” Seeing the frown marring Daniil’s face, Carlos was naturally concerned. He didn’t know Pierre that well, but they were unequivocally on friendly terms and he cared.

Daniil exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He’s sick. I knew something was wrong when I left this morning, he didn’t react like normal when I pretended to forget his forehead kiss.” The man did not intend to divulge anything regarding his love life and he studied Carlos’ reaction discreetly, ready to jump to his boyfriend’s defence.

Thankfully, Carlos only nodded sympathetically. “Do you want to leave early?”

There was no dithering. “Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

Shoving his belongings in his backpack, Daniil snuck out of the lecture hall through the door that was concealed from his professor’s view by a large potted plant. He quickly composed a message and sent it to Pierre, informing him that he was on his way home.

Pierre was confused, pointing out he should be in class at this hour.

> _You’re more important !_
> 
> _Carlos can catch me up on the important parts_
> 
> _Chocolate milk or strawberry?_

Charles could not believe he was being the voice of reason for once, it was usually a role reserved for Pierre. His idiot of a friend was currently pacing back and forth on the carpeted floor of his hotel room, and Charles wondered if Pierre felt like his socked feet were on fire.

“You’re making me dizzy,” said George, stuffing a handful of popcorn in his mouth. He was watching some sort of wildlife documentary with Alex, the two of them cuddled up together on the sofa.

“Just talk to him, _ami_ ,” Charles repeated himself, ignoring the unhelpful duo.

Alex chimed in, “Yes, do that instead of walking around.”

Charles glared at the Red Bull driver. “You are not helping.”

“Totally not helping,” George remarked solemnly, shrieking when Charles threw a cushion at him. “My popcorn!” Alex cackled and ate popcorn off his fellow Brit, disgusting Charles.

All the while Pierre was muttering under his breath and wearing out the beige covering. He had a good race, nearly made the podium. Coming in fifth was exhilarating and he should be celebrating, there was just one thing bothering him.

“I forced him onto the grass, Charles,” stated Pierre for the twenty-sixth time. Oh, you bet Charles was keeping count.

“Is he angry?” It was a rhetorical question. Charles noticed the clenching of Pierre’s jaw, he obviously didn’t like the answer. “Just talk to him, trust me.”

Pierre was about to argue, Charles saw it in his eyes, when a knock on the door interrupted them. George and Alex remained glued to the sofa, the latter urging Charles to check whoever was outside with a wave of his hand.

“I am never going to let you in my room again,” Charles declared. He brushed past Pierre, patting him on the butt as he did so, and swung open the door without inspecting the peephole. “Oh! Hey, Dany.”

Pierre’s squeaky _Dany?!_ and George’s exasperated _fucking finally_ did not go unheard. Charles jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows; Daniil merely inclined his head in affirmation. They were both accustomed to Pierre’s theatrics.

Stepping aside to allow the older entrance, Charles hollered, “Pierre, your boyfriend is here to pick you up from kindergarten!”

“Did he sit down?” Daniil asked, toeing off his shoes.

“No, I think he set a new record.”

Re-entering the sleeping area, Charles was unfazed by Pierre looking daggers at him. He did not call Daniil, the man showed up on his own. Squeezing onto the sofa beside Alex, Charles reached over him and stuck a hand in the bowl George was cradling. The three of them were doing a shitty job at pretending not to eavesdrop.

“I should have come here straight away,” said Daniil, caressing Pierre’s forearm. George mimed gagging, Charles shushed him. _They’re having a moment,_ he mouthed.

“You’re not angry, why are you not angry?” Pierre sounded upset. Charles didn’t know why he was in distress, he always felt thankful when his girlfriend wasn’t displeased with him.

Daniil inhaled deeply. “Why do you want me to be angry?”

“Why are there so many kernels? This is shit,” whispered Alex.

“Because I ruined your race!” Pierre exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “You were doing well!”

George smacked Alex on the back of his head. “Buy your own popcorn next time or shut the fuck up.”

“You didn’t ruin my race.” Daniil had the patience of a saint, Charles respected him for it. “I finished tenth, I could do better but it’s better than nothing. I was a bit angry at first but I got over it, okay? We promised to separate work from personal, I am keeping that promise.”

Pierre’s stance was wavering. “But…”

“Just kiss already!” Alex yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Kiss or get out!” George and Alex high-fived, Charles was going to kill them for ruining his eardrums.

Daniil laughed, placing a hand on the small of Pierre’s back. “We will leave now, thanks for taking care of this one.”

“Try ‘babysitting’, mate,” jested George.

Charles chuckled, saluting the couple. “See you in Vietnam, lovebirds.”

Alex whistled lowly. “Since _when_ did you use the term ‘lovebirds’?”

"He's not stupid, Alex", said George. "He learns, you should try that sometimes." 

As they began squabbling over their colleague-slash-friend's ever-growing vocabulary, Charles was silently observing the interaction between Pierre and Daniil. When they exited the room and Daniil turned around to close the door behind them, he made eye contact with Charles and the faint upward quirk of the corners of his lips seemed like a vow. Charles trusted him to not break it. He wanted his friend to be happy and rest assured, he was.

“Pierre, stop drawing dicks!” Daniil shouted, not tearing his eyes away from the ultra-wide monitor.

“I do what I want!” retorted the younger, his voice distant.

The thick black lines steadily materializing on Daniil’s forearm, stroke by stroke, were distracting him from the game. Max was outright snickering at his misery when he was the first to die yet again while Alex’s amused chuckles flooded the call.

“Is he trying to get your attention?” Alex asked, his on-screen character running around in circles. Daniil supposed he was mucking about, attempting to rile up Max.

“Maybe, I have been playing with you guys for”—Daniil glanced at the vintage clock on the wall—”four hours.” A curved mark was taking shape on the back of his hand. “He’s drawing another dick, do you think I should go?”

Max coughed right into his mic, the harsh noise causing Daniil to wince. It gave Alex a shock as well, his character jerking violently on the spot. “Can you send me photos of his art?”

“Ooo, me too,” said Alex. “I’ll pay you.”

“I am not that dumb, guys,” Daniil dead-panned. The phallic doodle was now complete, one of the dozens Pierre had scribbled. “I better leave before he moves to the face.” Max and Alex bid him good-bye in unison and he left the call. Taking off his headset, Daniil rose to his feet and stretched in a languid manner. Time to whoop ass.

The last he remembered, Pierre mentioned something about football. Daniil wandered into the living room and behold, his boyfriend was sitting cross-legged on the three-seater with a marker pen clutched in his hand.

“Turn off the TV if you’re not watching,” reminded Daniil.

Pierre smiled sweetly at him as he grabbed the remote from the coffee table. “So you didn’t forget you have a boyfriend, huh?”

“Did you miss me that much?” Daniil sat down on the edge of the sofa, raising an arm. Pierre instantly dropped the marker pen and snuggled close, tucking his legs under the quilt either one of them had draped over the back of the sofa.

Daniil gestured with the remote. “Are you still watching this?”

“Watching what? I don’t know what this is, it’s not football.” Pierre held out a hand expectantly and Daniil swiftly passed him the remote. “Charles told me about this funny baking show Lando showed him, maybe we can try that?”

“Anything with you,” said Daniil, pecking Pierre on his temple. “But no Bake Off, we have training tomorrow. I am not dragging you to bed again, Pyry will kill us.”

“I sent him a photo of my arm, let me take one of yours later so I can send it to him too.”

Daniil shook his head fondly. “You are really weird.”


End file.
